Jason ran his fingers through his thick, black, Mediterranean hair 
as he entered the lodge for lunch. This was the highlight of the 
day: Cheeseburer time! He couldn't wait to taste that melted 
cheddar. He shed his hat and Burton snowboarding jacket, though 
he didn't really snowboard. He just sat in the lodge and pretended
he was an expert snowboarder. He dubbed himself Herc, short for 
Hercules. The girls swooned at the sight of him and those muscles,
and that deep bronze tan. His parents were Intell magnates and 
could afford all the top-of-the-line equipment, though Jason failed
to teel them that during the day at the slopes, he didn't even
sit his butt down on a chairlift. They were too scary. Ever since 
Jason was a wee lad, he had all sorts of phobias: spiders, cats, 
ladders, forks, knives, you name it, he was scared, but one thing
he wasn't scared of was fine girls. They came in plenty.
Jason, or Herc, would smile his devishly handsome grin, to those 
wee babes. They would toss their hair back and swing their hips
as they neared his table. "Hey, handsome," they would whisper
breathlessly.
"Hi!" he squeaked. They ignored his squeaky voice, for they were
mesmerized by his handsome face and figure. Despite all the 
burgers, Jason remained lean and strong.
The girl took a pen out of her snowbib and said, "God, I have to 
have your number!"
Jason screamed, "Get that pen away from me! 911, call 911, this 
girl's gonna sexually harass me! I don't have to take it! HELP!